


Happy Ending

by iamanidhwal



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Peter Parker, Bottom Peter Parker/Top Wade Wilson, Dry Humping, Fantasy, Frottage, Kidnapping, Kink, Kinky, M/M, Massage, Massage Fantasy, Massage Therapist Peter Parker, Massage therapist, Mercenary Wade Wilson, Not beta-read, OC, Oral Sex, Peter Doesn't Go Down Without A Fight, Power Bottom Peter Parker, RESPECT SEX WORKERS, Rimming, Sex Work, Sex Worker, Sex Worker Peter Parker, Spideypool - Freeform, THEY'RE DOING THE LORD'S WORK WITH THEIR HANDS, THIS IS A PSA: TIP YOUR DAMN THERAPISTS, Top Wade Wilson, Violence, Voice Kink, Wade to the rescue, goddamn, it has nothing to do with the plot but I'm sENDING A MESSAGE
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2019-10-24 07:03:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17699825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamanidhwal/pseuds/iamanidhwal
Summary: Wade Wilson follows a strict ritual after every successful mission.He goes home, showers and scrubs himself clean, then goes out no matter the hour, roaming the streets to find sketchy-looking massage parlors in the seediest parts of town. He never really partakes in the extra-curricular activities offered, no matter how in the mood he was.It's only when he gets handled by a certain strong-handed, innocent-looking Peter Parker that he’s tempted to indulge in his fantasies.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, no, this is just self-indulgent as /fuck/, don't mind me.
> 
> No powers! Wade is still a mercenary, and Peter's a sex worker in a massage parlor as a kind of side-gig to pay for university. Both are very much mortal.
> 
> This started off in my idea as something quick and completely physical, wrapped up in a little oneshot.  
> Then I had the terrible, terrible idea of making this into more than one chapter.
> 
> Everything has been written down but I will be updating it in a weekly basis.
> 
> Don’t worry, some filthy fucking is still included.
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoy it!

Wade Wilson was not an innocent man.

Many people would agree, with just one look at his professional track record. His kill list was well over hundreds, his time in that particular line of work spanned  _years._ Wilson had been a member of an elite task force, sent out on black ops missions by the government. But after the last operation he worked on had gone sideways far too quickly for his liking, his body had endured too much irreparable damage. He had quit as soon as a big fat envelope for compensation had arrived, but not without vowing that he'd find out exactly what the fuck happened that the so-called foolproof plan went into different directions as soon as their feet hit the ground.

As a mercenary, he knew and appreciated the city best in the dark. Wade had become used to the night hours, had learned to appreciate the skyline adorned by the twinkling of city lights and the busy streets that petered out from highways to back alleys. He knew the streets like the back of his ugly, scarred hand. He was familiar with all the establishments, most of them he frequented after a successful mission.

This was one of those nights.

But no, he told himself, reeling in his wants with steely self-control; Wade had to stick to a rigid ritual he had set himself (to follow otherwise would render him insane for the next few minutes). Crossing the threshold into his dimly lit apartment, he kicked off his boots and started taking off the different accessories he had. He took off his weapons, unloading all but one of his guns and taking them off the holsters by his hips and shins. He slipped out of his leather suit at last, making a pointed effort to not look at himself in the full-length mirror that was unfortunately bolted to the wall, thus making it immovable as of present. Huffing, he padded to the bathroom, buck naked, decency be damned.

The water was boiling hot, just as Wade liked it. Well, he didn't particularly like it, to be honest, but it was the best way to relieve the sores and the flakiness that his skin's state would be in after being constricted in his bodysuit for hours at a time. He made sure to scrub himself clean, as well, taking note that his knuckles were split and that there was dried blood between his fingernails. He sighed as he cleaned himself as best as he could, then turned off the shower and went off to find some fresh, clean clothes he could change in.

A dark flier caught his eye, past-Wade having pinned it to the fridge door three days ago. It was a promotion for an established massage parlor three blocks down. "Haven't been there in months," he told himself, contemplating as he put on a hoodie over his body. He wrapped some thick gauze around his knuckles, thankful that at least the bleeding had stopped in the shower, then made his decision. Putting back on his boots, he got his keys and left again to take on the city.

* * *

A bell rang in the distant darkness as Wade opened the door, illuminated by the neon lights of the sign outside. Soft pattering of feet followed and a small woman with curly black hair and pale skin appeared, smile charming. 

"Good evening, Master Wilson," she greeted with a small bow of her dainty little head. "It's nice to see you again after so long."

"Good to see you too, Sindy," he replied good-naturedly, hands buried deep into his pockets. He frequented this particular joint often, partially because it was open for 24 hours, but mostly because they handled their work with utmost care and discretion, for the benefit of the establishment and its lovely loyal patrons. He took a look around, eyes quickly sweeping the place. Sindy stood behind a dark wooden counter, with a pigeon-hole of room keys behind her. Off to her left was a dark door, and to both of their right was another entryway, only covered with a curtain that was a deep velvet maroon.

Wade was no idiot; the establishment, aptly named  _Cloud Nine,_ was situated along a long back-alley almost entirely lit by an abundance of neon signs. From not-so-secret speakeasies, to underground raves and discos, seedy pubs catering to the underbelly of the city, and a variety of massage parlors that offer a little extra  _goodie-goodie_ at just the right price.  _Cloud Nine_ was no exception, but was one of the first parlors ever built in this side of town, therefore gaining reputation and prestige in that sort of line of work. Wade had been to almost ninety percent of the establishments in just this particular street, because it catered to 'his type of crowd', but  _Cloud Nine_ was like bedrock. Always open, always with dependable service through the years.

"Will you be trying out something new?" Sindy asked, bouncing on her heels as she checked a small clipboard that she had hidden behind her back. "You've never tried the hot stone therapy, nor the ventosa method --"

"No, no," he interrupted, shaking his head. He couldn't even begin to imagine how bad his skin would react to hot stones or cups leaving angry red welts along his spine. "Just the usual. Uh, the alchemy signature massage."

"Great! Oils?"

Wade hummed in thought. "I'll just get the lavender one."

"Excellent, Master Wilson." The receptionist's smile just grew as she wrote his order into the hand-written receipt on her clipboard. "Anyone in particular you might like?"

Wade smiled cheekily. "Is my usual girl not around?"

"That would be... Jill, right? No, sadly, she quit a few weeks back. Family problems," she said sympathetically, genuine sadness creeping into her voice. "Had to move back to her parents'. Shame, really. She's family."

Wade couldn't help the disappointed feeling that setlled into his stomach. "That's too bad, then." Jill had been the only masseuse to ever handle Wade after his accident, and she was a professional. She didn't ask any questions, simply switching the usual oil and powder that all of them used for a soothing cream that did wonders on Wade's scars. It was a pity that she wasn't here anymore.

"Well, there's someone else who's free," Sindy offered, checking her roster. "Oh, it's Peter. You haven't seen him around before, no?"

He shook his head. "Nah, Sinds, I don't believe I have."

"Well, he's the only one free now. Everyone else is booked up." She tilted her head and looked at him innocently. "Would a male therapist pose a problem then?"

At that, Wade chuckled. "You know it wouldn't. I swing both ways."

"Great!" She clapped her hands and turned to the pigeon holes, getting a heavy-looking key from the topmost shelf. "It's the VIP room, since it's the only one free at this time. I'll give it to you at no extra charge," she added, winking at him. "As a little 'welcome back' gift."

"You spoil me to no end," he chuckled, pocketing the key as she ducked behind the door to her left to call for his therapist. "He'll be right out," she said, before excusing herself to check on the others. Wade sat on one of the plush seats lining the wall opposite to the counter, not really in a rush but feeling a little dread at being under the scrutiny of a new therapist.

"Master Wilson?" a steady, rich-amber voice spoke, and Wade looked up. The man that was smiling at him was - he couldn't find any other word for it -  _drop-dead gorgeous._

"That's me," he said - or more, aptly -  _croaked._ The surprise on his face must have been plain as day, because Peter went over to bow his head and offer his hand.

"My name is Peter, I'll be your therapist for this evening."  _Wow,_ he smelled so good. Wade could lean in and just sniff him, like he was freshly-harvested lavender put into a scent bag. Under better illumination, Wade could see the features on his face better. Tousled brown hair, big, doe-brown eyes, a goofy, easy-going smile. He was in _Cloud Nine_ 's uniform, a dark blue tunic-like top with a low collar that showed off his collarbones, and black pants. It looked  _dangerously_ good on him, and the sight of him made Wade's stomach do somersaults and cartwheels inside his body.

"Right, right, nice to meet you," he suddenly remembered to answer, shaking his hand. It was bigger than he expected, the other man's hand easily matching Wade's breadth and width with his own. It didn't slip from his attention that his hands were naturally warm to the touch, pleasant and soft due to many times of handling gentle cream. 

If Peter noticed that Wade's hand was covered in scars and lumps from palm to back, he didn't let it show on his face, which Wade was eternally grateful for. He gave him the key from his pocket and Peter led him to the wash area.

Wade sat down on the bamboo bench, cuffing his pants up to mid-shin area and taking off his shoes. Peter knelt in front of him, placing Wade's feet in a wide porcelain basin built into the floor, full of warm water. Deftly, he kept Wade's shoes in a cabinet and replaced them with rubber slippers, before starting to wash his feet meticulously with a green pasty soap.

Wade couldn't help but watch in awe as the gorgeous man in front of him thoroughly worked his hands on his feet, without flinching or questioning glances up to him about the state of his  skin and body. He had to say something. Wade cleared his throat in a futile, pathetic attempt at small talk, but at least that got Peter's attention.

"How long have you been working here?"

Peter hummed as he washed the soap and lather away with the water. "Around a month. But I've worked in other massage parlors before." He pulled the plug and let the water drain away, before winking up at him. "Don't worry, Master Wilson, you're in good hands."

Wade could feel a blush creeping from his neck up to the tips of his ears, and he internally thanked whoever designed this particular parlor to have low lights. "T-That's not what I meant. And don't call me Master, it's weird."

"Sorry, Master Wilson, but it's establishment policy," he said, amused, before wiping his feet with a clean towel. He slipped Wade's feet onto the slippers and stood up. "So, you'll have the VIP room then? Follow me."

Peter turned on his heel to lead him through a hallway of doors, to which he knew it led to a small room with a bed, a small locker for the customers' belongings, and, of course, a smaller cabinet for any tools and toys that the therapists would deem useful for their extra-curricular activities. "Here we are," he said, opening the door to the far left and swinging the door wide to let him in. 

Wade noted that it was more spacious than the regular rooms that he usually booked, and lit more sensuously, with low candles giving a sexier vibe to the whole place. The raised bed was also a dead giveaway for better treatment, full of plush pillows and with soft-looking sheets. There was a locker to one corner, above which was a wall-mounted cabinet stock full of towels. There was even a door to the right which Wade didn't know what it was for.

Peter must have caught the curious look on his face, because he explained, "Private bathroom. If you need to relieve yourself before we start, and if you want to take a shower after, you're free to use it." Wade hummed appreciatively, which made Pete smile and step back, one foot through the door. "Alright, Master Wilson. I'm gonna need you to strip down to nothing, lie down on your stomach and I'll be with you in a minute. Unless there's anything else I can help you with?"

"Nah, there's nothing," Wade replied, happy with the arrangement. But he suddenly got an idea. "Oh, Pete?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Inside the room, my conditions apply." He plastered on a flirty smile easily, leaning on the wall. "You'll need to call me Wade."

Even in the relative darkness of the room, the light from the candles caught in Peter's eyes, making them twinkle mischievously. With a cheeky smirk plastered on his face, Peter looked like a right  _snack_ to Wade. 

Especially when he bowed his head, and practically purred, " _Of course._ "

* * *

"You got Mister Wilson?"

Peter was taken aback as one of the girls he worked with rounded on him, disturbing him from refilling his bottles with lavender oil. "Vicky, what?"

"You got Mister Wilson!" She cooed, hand rubbing his arm through their tight-fitting scrubs uniform as though in sympathy. "That man's a brute."

There was a brief flash on panic that crossed his face as the thought of a violent interaction with a customer would take place. "I-Is he - ?"

"Oh, shit, no, Pete, he's not dangerous," she laughed weakly, waving her hand around. "No, don't jump to conclusions that easily. He's a long-time patron; if he would ever lay hands on any of us, Baba wouldn't care how much money we'd make off of him. She'd strangle him and leave him out on the streets. Sindy would step on his nuts and spit in his face for good measure."

"Right." Peter sighed in relief, thankful that it wasn't going to be one of those kind of nights. "I got used to assholes like that in my old job. But what did you mean by him being a brute?'

"Oh, just that he doesn't really ask for any extras." She pouted, crossing her arms at the thought. "Jill said he's a sweet guy, a little reserved. He asks about the therapist a lot, like he really cares. Seems like he's got lots of history, y'know? But even though he's got a hard-on, he doesn't ask for the after-job menu. Doesn't really force sweet Jill into anything, either. Just says thanks, see you later, and gives a generous tip, so she says."

"Huh." Peter nodded, feeling a flutter of disappointment in his chest. He didn't know why, but Wade had piqued his interest as soon as he met his eyes. Not just because he was curious what had happened, but because Peter felt a knowing tug at the bottom of his stomach when a scarred yet adamantly handsome customer asked for a massage. He didn't want to force him into anything, though, but still made sure the laminated page for extra services was put on his little basket of oils, creams and powders.

"You know," Peter mumbled to himself, making sure Vicky was out of earshot. He didn't know if he was psyching himself up or just preparing him for disappointment after the massage. "Just in case."

* * *

Wade had stripped down to nothing, like Peter had instructed, and was lying on his stomach on the bed, with a towel draped around his ass for modesty's sake. He closed his eyes, breathing in the faint scent of flowers from the sheets provided, and tried to entertain himself with humming a song while waiting for his therapist to come back.

He heard the whoosh of the sliding door to the room open and a faint pattering of feet as Peter shuffled about the bed, getting ready. Wade cracked open an eye, followed by the other one, as he watched the other man preparing his towels and oils. Once he was ready, Peter glanced at him and winked. "Had enough of staring, Wade?"

"You caught me," he drawled, relaxing a little and stretching his arms up, folding them to rest his head on them. "Sorry, darling, you just look too good not to be checked out."

"Mmhm, don't I know it," Peter flirted back, batting his eyelashes. "I'm gonna be starting, then. Two hours, alchemy signature massage with lavender oil."

"Great." Wade hummed, and felt the bed springs creak just a little as Peter climbed over. He felt the bed dip on either side of him, and he could practically  _feel_ Peter's warmth just emanating off of him, a few inches away from his bare back and ass. It didn't help at all that his thoughts had strayed to Peter in nothing but his uniform top, legs spread and just  _begging_ to be fucked silly on the bed.

"Pressure?" Peter purred into his ear, the soft click of the bottle for oil bringing Wade back to reality. "Soft, moderate or hard?"

"Hard," he choked out, chuckling to himself, thinking that that wasn't the only thing he wanted hard in this very room.

Peter seemed satisfied, cracking his knuckles. "If you need me to change the settings, don't hesitate to verbalize it."

The first sweep of hands on his skin made Wade moan softly, his eyes fluttering closed. Peter didn't lie - he  _was_ a professional; that much he could gauge from just a few focuses presses onto his back. He noted before that Peter's hands were naturally warm to the touch, but now - with the addition of the lavender-scented oil - they felt like two warm balls of scented coal traveling down his spine. Peter knew how to use his fingers, squeezing his trapezius deftly, reaching the whole breadth of his shoulder blades, retreating to the center, then going up again to the back of his neck. He noticed that he wasn’t the only one enjoying it, as well, with Peter adding an extra flair of scraping his fingernails lightly at the back of Wade's bald head.

"Mmm," Wade hummed into the pillow as Peter's hands went diagonal, one hand stretching his left shoulder and his lower right hip, then vice versa. He couldn't control himself from moaning even louder when Peter's hands balled into fists and he let his knuckles run down the length of his spine, all the way from the top of his spine to the dip of his hips. "God, you really do know your stuff."

"Seems like you're enjoying it, too," Peter quipped like a smart-ass, and  _God,_ Wade swore he could see a smirk on his mental image of the other man. "Judging by the sounds you were making a little while ago."

"Well, baby-boy, I can't really help it if yo-" Wade's sentence was cut off by a yelp of surprise as he felt Peter's hands suddenly on his ass, kneading him through the towel that covered his modesty. 

In all his life, Wade Wilson never thought that he'd hate a flimsy piece of towel. But right now, in this room, with a sexy man currently squeezing and kneading his glutes so much it made him squirm, all his inward curses and swears were directed toward that godforsaken piece of cloth separating his body from Peter's expert fingers. "Hey! I'd usually have you buy me dinner first before you go below the belt.”

In an instant, he could feel Peter's warm breath ghosting over his earlobe, huffing out a little chuckle that went straight to Wade’s groin. "Don't you worry, darling," he drawled, and Wade felt shivers down his spine. "This'll build us both an appetite. And don't worry about the noise. The rooms are almost entirely soundproof." 

Wade felt Peter's teeth graze his earlobe lightly, at the same time that his fingers dug into the towel, deep enough that he could feel it through cloth. His hips seemed to have a mind of his own and bucked up against the pressure. But Peter, ever the tease, chose it was the right time to lean back and stood up from the bed, then started to massage his legs, starting with the left.

Wade withdrew into his mind as the familiar pressure of the other man's hands made sweeping motions from the back of his thighs to his calves. He didn't expect how much Peter was going to be teasing tonight, as compared to Jill's strict protocol, but he couldn't for the life of him tell him to stop. He  _liked_ how ballsy he was, liked how  _good_ he was to giving Wade just the right amount of sexy then withdraw it with as much grace as he had offering his services in the first place. If Wade looked like a man dying of thirst, he didn't care.

He wanted Peter, and wanted him  _bad._

"You've got some body, Wade," Peter commented, thumbs circling the muscles on his calf, working out the tension, before pressing upwards to his thigh and left butt cheek. "Makes me wonder what you do in the daytime."

"Wouldn't you like to know, cutie?" He replied smoothly, chuckling. "I do a lot, move around a lot. It keeps me in shape. You like it?"

"Mm, yeah, definitely," Peter said, obviously impressed, and Wade had a niggling feeling that his vague answers didn't really cut it for his therapist. But he was thankful that he let it slide, especially when he started kneading the soles of his feet.

He needed to assess his feelings before he was going to do anything else after this massage. Did he like Peter?  _Obviously, yes,_ and his growing arousal pinned between his body and the bed was more than enough proof of that. Did Peter like him? If the flirtation was his gauge, that would be a hell yes. Now the only thing Wade had to check was his sex drive, which was basically purring for him to acquaint Peter with his cock as deeply as fucking possible.

He felt Peter move over to his right leg, doing the same ministrations as to his left. Wade decided he'd play it out, slow and smooth and cool. "So how come an innocent face like you got into the massage parlor business?”

A soft chuckle escaped from Peter’s lips. Wade knew he was a smart boy; that much he could tell from one look at his face, backed up by his quick replies that made him eager to hear what he has to say, each and every time. “I study in uni, and my semesters are usually three-fourths full of credits. This was the only thing apart from being a bartender or a night-time barista that would actually help my schedule.”

Suspicions confirmed. Wade nodded, processing the tidbits of information that he had just received. “Not so fond of mixing drinks?”

The other man snorted into a full laugh, hands momentarily stilling as it trailed up his thigh before massaging just below his ass. “Nah. Too many rude shits and dumb drunks for my liking.”

“I can hardly believe it’s any different with the audience a massage parlor attracts,” Wade replied as Peter took to massaging the balls of his feet and stretching his toes. “In fact, I’d say it attracts a far more dangerous clientele.”

“Who said I switched jobs because I was afraid of danger?” Wade glanced back and the mischievous glint was back in Peter’s eyes, paired with an amused smirk. His hands had stilled, finishing his massage on his legs before moving up to his back. “So does this mean you’re dangerous, Wade?”

He hummed and mirrored Peter’s smirk, knowing deep down in his gut that all logic of not indulging the other man past their little flirting game had been unceremoniously thrown out the window with no inkling of regret. “For you, baby-boy, I could be.”

* * *

Peter was thoroughly enjoying himself with Wade, that much he can allow himself to admit. He had never met a man so easily charming as him, so damnably attractive as the scarred man below him. His appreciative moans of pleasure and relief were beauty to his ears, and he was glad that the circumstances of the night gave them the privacy of the VIP room.

Peter knew it was childishly selfish of him, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. He wanted the sounds of Wade coming undone by his hands to only fall on his ears, and his alone.

He added more oil to the palms of his hand and resumed the massage, starting low on his hips and slowly working up to his shoulder blades. He let his hands and arms work on muscle memory, and let his eyes do the wandering.

Wade was a man who seemed insecure of his appearance, if the thick material of his clothes that covered as much skin as possible was any indication. But Peter couldn’t find a reason to focus on the scars. They were not ugly, but they looked painful, each one more fresher than the last. A litany of scratches, pale streaks and scars littered the skin he had seen so far. Peter saw them, did not pity Wade in the least; but he wanted to touch them, _taste_ them, as though it would draw out the story of a man underneath him.

He made sure that he had circled certain sore areas judging by the skin pigmentation; no doubt it would bruise, a blotch of angry purple before it mellows to yellow and back to his normal skin color. There was a fresh scratch wound, on his back, leaving angry red lines from the back of his shoulders down to his sides. His fingers traced the slightly raised scars slowly, humming in spite of himself.

Peter wondered if his nails would leave angrier gashes on Wade’s back as he fucked deep into his body, milking him orgasm after orgasm.

He wondered if Wade would look at Peter, sobbing and beside himself with pleasure, and hiss appreciatively as another mark was imprinted upon his skin.

“I’ve got lots more scars,” Wade mumbled, snapping Peter out of his musings and resume the massage. He could feel the man withdraw, and it almost broke him to see just how deeply it affected his morale. “Too many. I know they’re ugly.”

“They’re _not_ ugly,” Peter said, firm in his conviction, but surprising himself with the force that he said the words with. Gingerly, he took the arms away from where Wade had propped his head on them, returning them to his side as he dug with his thumb to put pressure on the backs of his shoulders. “Scars tell a man’s story, Wade.”

There was a touch of humorless laughter from Wade as Peter brought his arm diagonally across his back, stretching him slowly before putting it back down. “Yeah, well, I seem to have a pretty weird story.”

“I love weird stories,” Peter said simply, then went on to continue the massage in relative silence.

* * *

Wade was grateful for a break from talking, because he had a lot to process.

Peter, sweet, sweet Peter, with his gorgeous locks and his baby-boy face and fingers like a God, had sucker-punched him in the gut with four little words, and it left him breathless.

_I love weird stories._

He had said it so simply, so plainly. Wade knew that any man could have taken it any other way. But this was Wade, and this was Peter, and he knew for certain that he received the exact message that the other man wanted to convey with four little words without being too intrusive.

He had been so careful in hiding his interest, both physically and mentally, with only a lackluster performance for the latter. But now? Wade felt incredibly bare, more bare than his naked form that was spread on the bed. He didn’t feel the need to close up and withdraw, however. Not from lovely Peter, no, never from him. It might be the lavender talking, but he felt incredibly at ease; something he hasn't felt for a long, long time.

“I’m gonna need you to turn around, Wade.” Peter’s voice was soft in his ear, tapping him on the shoulder if he needed a gentle prodding to wake him up. He felt Peter hold up his towel and he glanced back to see him looking away politely.

Wade chuckled in amusement as he rolled over on his back, with Peter covering his modesty with the towel that did _butt-fuck nothing_ to hide his hard-on, plain as day. “I don’t think the towel helps at all in this situation,” he said finally.

Peter finally looked back at his body, and Wade smirked as he saw his eyes marginally widen at the sight of him tenting the cloth. He knew Peter was being polite by not saying anything, and in other circumstances Wade would be embarrassed to even have a public show of physical arousal outside the privacy of his own home.

But then again, this was Wade. And this was Peter. And he knew for sure that Wade liked it when those eyes swept him head to toe, feeling warm as they do, as if they were Peter’s hands on him.

“You’re well-endowed,” Peter said finally, winking at him before going down to spread his legs a little. Wade had a brief vision of Peter climbing up on the bed, kneeling between his legs, and flinging the towel across the room like the abomination it was before stuffing his mouth with his cock.

At least, that’s what Peter looked like he was heavily considering. Wade smirked to himself as Peter’s hands, even warmer than before, started massaging the front of his legs. “You like it, baby?”

“Oh, I like it very much.” The other man purred, leaning closer to him. His hands stayed on his upper thigh, but Wade faced him head-on. He could see a patient smile gracing his baby-boy’s face, but there was no doubt a fire of desire making Peter’s doe-brown eyes appear darker with lust.

Wade felt the faintest brush of Peter’s fingers on his balls, and he instinctively closed his eyes and breathed deeply, the scent of Peter’s light, fresh cologne mixing with the lavender-scented oil. It wreaked havoc on his senses, and he wouldn’t be surprised if his brain short-circuited right then and there.

The touch of skin retreated and disappeared as soon as it had come, but it wasn’t the last. Wade expected it, of course; massage parlors such as _Cloud Nine_ no doubt had a different, not-so-secret _secret_ menu of offers to be indulged in at the end of the formal massage. It starts off innocent enough, but there was a covert signal of an open-ended massage that could be partaken.

Wade knew this, had experienced it from Jill but ignored it completely. But with Peter, his touches had been electric, sending quick spurts of desire from the contact to coil deep in his belly.

And at long last, when his massage was finally over, Wade couldn't help but smirk at Peter. He had an innocent-enough smile on his face as he passed over a laminated sheet of extra services with their respective price points, but Wade didn’t miss the quick flash of pink tongue wetting his lips, the half-hooded stare that he received.

“Only if you’re interested, Wade,” Peter said softly. “As you know, there are some services that I’m available to, and wouldn’t mind giving.”

Another flash of pink tongue across his full lips. Wade didn’t need to consult no damn menu. He knew exactly what he wanted.

“I want your mouth on me.” He said, light enough but with enough authority that sent a delightful shiver across Peter’s body. He spread his legs on the bed and pulled the towel off, smiling cheekily.

Peter didn’t need to be told twice. He crawled up between his legs, languidly like a cat, then stopped just an inch short of his throbbing cock. Wade could feel himself twitch in excitement, and when Peter’s fingers wrapped around his base, warmth emanating from his hand even then, he moaned out loud, not expecting it to get any better than this.

After all their flirty back-and-forths, Wade felt frustration and amusement well up in his chest as Peter darted his tongue out to taste his head. Playfully, biding his time. The playful twinkle was back in his eyes, and Wade would have appreciated it fully if he hadn’t been rock hard for the past hour and a half.

“You little tease,” he grunted, his mouth transforming into an ‘o’ of pleasure when Peter suddenly took his head in his mouth to try out a soft, experimental suck.

Peter winked at him, licking his lips. “I want to savor you.”

“Is that really… all that you’re doing?” Wade’s sentence was only broken by pants, and Peter _graciously, finally_ took more of his cock into that delicious, warm, wet mouth.

He couldn’t think of anything else except for how _wrong_ he was that it couldn’t get any better. Because it definitely had, especially with Peter slowly, carefully, _masterfully_ taking his whole length in his mouth without so much as batting his eyelashes at him. He did look up at him through thick eyelashes, and the sight alone made Wade’s breath catch in his throat.

“ _Fuck me, that’s hot,_ ” was all Wade could muster before the other man started bobbing his head. He could feel Peter’s tongue in his mouth, could feel his cock rubbing on it, could feel it swirling around and teasing the small slit that was already weeping in pleasure.

He took out his cock of his mouth, shaft glistening with saliva, and lapped up the beads of pre-cum from the head, making sure to keep eye contact and produce the most obscene noises Wade had ever heard. He didn’t even get a chance to savor the sight, before he was again enveloped in hot, slick warmth.

Peter’s full lips worked, granting lovely suction. His cheeks hollowed out as he sucked, and Wade couldn’t resist. His hands strayed from where they were on his side, finding themselves carding through Peter’s brown hair. He took hold of short hairs at the back of his head, gave an experimental tug. Peter moaned around his cock, and Wade moaned, in turn.

“God, _yes,_ ” he hissed, making sure he didn't accidentally force Peter’s head down no matter how much he wanted his tongue, his throat, his mouth, _more_. But when the other man took all of it in, all but burying his nose on Wade’s skin, he let out a wretched cry as he tried hard not to come then and there.

Peter leaned back, letting go of Wade’s cock from his lips with a comical _pop_. He plastered on a wide grin, and Wade didn’t know what he was doing or planning until a finger slowly prodded on a small sweet spot on below his balls, making him thrust into the air, his mouth letting off a small whine.

Peter shushed him, soft and endearing, before taking his member back in his mouth. Wade at this point had been doling out curses and downright filthy things, directed at someone and no one in particular. He didn’t feel the need to stop, nor the slightest twinge of discomfort from Peter as he sucked him closer to the edge.

Wade groaned into his hand, his other fisting the sheets on the bed, twisting them in his fingers the way that he wanted to twist Peter’s hair. “God, I’m so close…!”

“Come, darling,” Peter urged, stroking his cock with deft twists in his wrists. His technique was polished and sure, and Wade could see satisfaction in his half-lidded eyes. “Come for me, beautiful.”

He didn’t know what got into him, but when he heard those last four words, when his mind had registered that Peter had called him beautiful – with all his callouses, his scars, his imperfections – he came, without so much as a warning above an audible, stuttering gasp.

Peter himself didn’t expect it when it came, a spurt of hot white come coming out suddenly. He closed his eyes as more came out, painting a picture on his face. His hand never stilled nor faltered, and he made sure every little droplet of pleasure was thoroughly milked from Wade’s body before daring to open his eyes.

When Wade saw him in that state – eyes closed, smiling blissfully, his come all over his cheek and eyelids and lips like a freaking Jackson Pollock painting – he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He wanted that scene tattooed to the back of his eyelids, imprinted in his memory forever. For all his admiration, though, he could only muster up the energy to produce a soft, reverent-sounding, “Wow.”

The other man chuckled, finally opening an eye and licking the come that fell on his lips, now a little swollen and red from their activity. “Wow is right,” he agreed, his hand reaching for a clean towel to wipe off Wade’s streaks in his face. “You are something, alright.”

“So are you.” Wade eyed Peter as he leaned back on his knees on the bed, his own arousal distracting Wade from any other incoherent, sex-addled thought. “Do you need any help?”

At that, Peter just chuckled. “You affect me in certain ways, Wade, there’s no doubt about it.”

“Well, sorry,” He said, feeling not so very sorry at all. It showed on his face, it was evident in his voice, and if that wasn’t enough, he put on a shit-eating grin for good measure. “Do you want me to take responsibility?”

Peter looked like he was hesitating, before he gave a small, shy nod. Wade sat up, then threw him a wink before starting. He palmed at the front of his pants, in awe at the size and bulge of the thing that tented his work scrub bottoms.

Peter must be _packing_ for it to make the cloth strain like that, and Wade felt his breath hitch in his throat at the implications. He knew that he was above average, and to even imagine that Peter was, too… it sent a jolt of pleasure down his spine.

He wanted to see for himself. Deftly, his fingers hooked themselves on the elastic waistband of Peter’s scrubs and underwear, pulling them down to his thighs just enough for his erection to spring free. Wade felt his cheeks flush at the sight of it.

“Now _that,”_  He said, whistling in appreciation. “Is well-endowment.”

“ _Wade.”_ The whispered, feverish plea from the man above him had nearly escaped his ears. When it registered, he could feel himself perk up and take a closer look. Peter had bunched up his uniform top, holding it up between his teeth. He could see his cheeks flaming red, and Wade’s mouth watered at the sight of a toned torso.

“Shhh, don’t you worry, baby-boy.” Wade wrapped a hand around his cock, jerking him off. Peter must have been hard all this time, and the very thought of their little favors affecting the other man in such a way made Wade’s mind heady. His hand motions were fast, and a little less sure than Peter, knowing how his skin texture might feel.

But when he heard the sharp intake of breaths, the swearwords and moans into the fabric of his uniform, Wade knew he was doing well. “You’re so close, aren’t you?” Wade whispered, leaning forward to kiss Peter’s taut skin just above his navel, and he smirked, satisfied, when he felt the man shiver, his breath stutter, and his legs just give way a little bit.

“God, Wade, I’m – “

“Come,” Wade ordered. As if on cue, he felt Peter stiffen up and let out a sharp cry as he came, all over Wade’s hand and his own stomach. He stroked him through his orgasm, which rendered Peter speechless and breathless. Wade watched him intently, as his eyes fluttered closed and his breath evened out.

When Peter finally came to, his eyes opened slowly, looking anywhere in the room but him. A small, shy, thankful smile graced those damned lips of his. Wade wanted that scene tattooed on the back of his eyelids, too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little peek into what happened immediately after.
> 
> (Not much action, but a little tease nonetheless. Next chapter is rated R!)
> 
> ((Also comment hearts to send love to Best Girl Sindy))

* * *

Wade Wilson was a man of routine. He needed to follow the strict regimen he had laid out for himself, discipline himself into doing it step-by-step to a T or else, he might go crazy. One of those steps was to only visit a particular establishment of the night after a successful mission.

Suffice to say, Wade had been out-of-routine for days.

Sindy had been delightfully surprised when the man came back immediately after that night. She usually hid her personal feelings well in the face of professionalism, but he couldn't help it this time. Being the front face of this establishment for years meant recognizing repeat customers; Baba trusted her skills and discretion, which made her secure the position for years. Wade Wilson was no man one’s eyes would pass by in a flash. _Cloud Nine_ would be lucky to have a respectful, charming, generously-paying patron like him to visit their premises once every two weeks.

Never in the three years since Wade had started frequenting their parlor had he visited for more than once a week. Sindy knew what was up, but she didn’t complain. Wade had left that particular night in seemingly good spirits, leaving a _huge_ tip to Sindy and an even more obscene amount in Peter’s personal tip pouch. A little suspicious, she had gone to the back where Peter had gone to rest his hands. When she had asked Peter for a customer report, she expected the usual answer that Wade refused any additional services offered.

She didn’t expect Peter’s cheeks to flare up. He only had the decency to tell her that Wade had, indeed, asked for extra services. But before Sindy could even get over her initial shock, let alone ask the specific service provided, Peter mumbled a hasty excuse about changing the sheets before fleeing.

 

Sindy was a smart girl. She put two-and-two together, and when Wade came back the very next night like she anticipated, she had already cleared Peter’s schedule for the night and reserved the VIP room for them once more. Her smile only grew bigger when both men had already disappeared through the curtain, the knowing smiles and telling glances between them not lost to her.

* * *

 

Peter had a loyal following, because of course he does. People of all genders have requested for him specifically, so he wasn’t surprised when Wade had asked for him specifically again.

He just didn’t expect Wade to come back so soon.

Of course, that wasn’t really a problem for him. When Wade had left, leaving what looked like a wad of hundred dollar bills in Sindy’s tip jar on the way out, he saw a cheeky smirk plastered on his face.

“I’ll be back,” he had said, winking at Peter as he crossed the threshold and re-enter the darkness outdoors.

Peter admitted his heart raced when he said that, could feel his cheeks heating up at the possibilities that would present itself after what they had just shared. Peter was no amateur; he had done this before. But not with such… _gusto._ He knew what he did in that room with Wade was all flair. Those techniques he used, he never really busted them out unless it was with a partner, and Lord knows he had been single for _too damn long._ Wade had made every interaction infinitely better, going beyond the usual customer-therapist protocol.

And he didn’t even want to think about the one thing that Wade had done that actually made him take pause: _reciprocate._

Peter knew that, in this line of work, they were always the giver. They were always the one to provide service. When Wade offered to finish him off, give him release from his arousal, it had make him stop short. Was he joking around? He couldn’t tell, but Wade’s blue eyes glinted in the dim candlelight, and Peter’s breath caught at his throat when he tried to choke out an ‘ _Oh, God, yes, please.’_

The memory of Wade’s fingers on his shaft made his head spin, especially when he started to focus on the odd but pleasing texture of his skin. It had been absolutely perfect; the only thing Peter wanted was for him to have lasted longer.

Sindy had rounded on him a mere five minutes after Wade had left and after Peter had retreated to the therapist’s personal lounge. It was practically empty save for him and Louis, another male therapist, who had passed out on the couch with a warm towel over his face. Peter was only starting to begin his usual routine – drink some water, put hand cream, place the empty bottles on the sink for washing and refilling – before a waft of jasmine perfume reached his nostrils and he knew he had to turn around.

The pale girl with black curly hair was holding a small clipboard with a pink, fuzzy pen attached to it. The customer’s report, Peter knew. “I need you to fill it out real quick, hon,” Sindy asked. “Wade behaved, didn’t he?”

“Oh.” Peter nodded, trying to look away out of embarrassment. He didn’t want any giveaway signs that he was still getting hot flashes about Wade. “Yeah, of course. Perfect customer, ten out of ten.”

“Pete.” He knew without looking that Sindy had a frown on her face. “You’re not looking me in the eye. I know you’re new here at _Cloud Nine,_ but we’re family. If he did something, you come to us.”

“What? No, Sinds, no,” he squeaked, facing her now with his hands up. “It’s not that!”

“So, he didn’t hurt you?”

“ _God,_ no.” He shook his head, and he was relieved to see Sindy’s tense demeanor relax somewhat. “He was decent. Corroborates with what Jill had on him.”

“He left a really big tip outside, around two-hundred I think. Did he ruin the sheets?”

“Well, nothing the laundromat can’t fix,” Peter mumbled, making a mental note to replace the sheets right after the report. The whole room would smell like sex and Wade’s musk and the memory of their shared orgasms. He didn’t want anyone else to encounter that; that was between Peter and Wade and he liked it better that way.

Sindy hummed and made a note on her clipboard. “So, just the usual then? Massage and no afters?”

Peter hesitated. He could feel his cheeks flaring up, and Sindy’s eyes widened comically, her mouth falling open. “Wait a minute, did he _actually - ?”_

“H-He did,” he said simply, turning away to hide his embarrassment. He cradled a bunch of freshly laundered sheets and a couple of towels to try and hide his face. He couldn’t even formulate the word ‘blowjob’ in his mind, drawing a blank. “I-I’m going to go change the sheets,” he said before hastily leaving the room to escape any more questions.

He was halfway through the blissfully empty reception area when he found his personal tip pouch on top of everyone else’s. Curious, he put the sheets down on the counter and checked the contents. He knew he had a couple of twenty’s and a fifty dollar bill from his other customers earlier in the afternoon.

He knew without putting much thought to it that it was Wade who added five hundred-dollar bills, neatly folded, into his tip pouch. There was a small, handwritten note as well, and Peter snorted, amused, as he saw the messy, scratchy script that matched Wade’s personality perfectly.

 

_‘10/10 would bang – W’_

 


End file.
